


Heal Me

by Zombiiewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiiewrites/pseuds/Zombiiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is…different in some ways but still very much the same in others. Castiel misses the days where he could lose himself in those lidded, green pastures but his love and dedication for the human-turned-demon goes well beyond aesthetics. </p><p>Dean has given him purpose once again, not as an angel but as a human. The process is slow but day by day, Castiel administers his treatment—thirty milliliters of his blood and a little TLC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heal Me

Dean is…different in some ways but still very much the same in others. Castiel misses the days where he could lose himself in those lidded, green pastures but his love and dedication for the human-turned-demon goes well beyond aesthetics. 

Dean has given him purpose once again, not as an angel but as a human. The process is slow but day by day, Castiel administers his treatment—thirty milliliters of his blood and a little TLC.

During the early days, when Dean was still coping, he’d often run off and get himself into trouble but things have become more routine now. He remains at the bunker for the most part and he and Sam still bicker nonstop, the only difference now is that their pranks that used to involve superglue and tampered with shampoo have evolved into demon traps and levitation. 

The change has taken it’s toll on the eldest Winchester but he is resilient, strong, and righteous. In Castiel’s eyes, not even the Mark of Cain stands a chance against a soul as bright as Dean’s. 

"You’re not gonna’ make me beg for it, are you, angel face?" Dean asks from the bed, lying nude atop the disheveled sheets with his legs spread shamelessly and his manhood resting flaccidly against his thigh. 

Castiel rolls his eyes and stifles a smile, partly over the pet name but mostly over the sly smirk plastered over his lover’s lips. “I haven’t decided yet,” he retorts simply, shrugging off his trench coat and tossing it over the back of the chair while loosening his tie. 

"I like it when you play hard to get," Dean replies, crossing one arm behind his head and trailing his free hand over his abdomen, fingertips delicately tracing down the narrow path of hair at his navel. He peers up at Cas through wide, black eyes, eyebrows raised suggestively and a deep rooted smirk on his face, watching as he sheds his suit and eventually starts towards the bed.

"You like it when I do a lot of things," Cas acknowledges with a genuine smile, all teeth and gums, as he plants his hands on either side of Dean’s head and claims his lips hastily. 

Dean inhales sharp and circles one of his arms around Castiel’s sturdy waist, fingers spreading over his warm back and blunt nails digging into the skin there. He kisses back ardently with a hallow growl, impatiently seeking out Cas’ tongue with his own. 

"You’re so damn impatient," Castiel laughs and smiles against his lips while combing his fingers through Dean’s hair. 

"Can you blame me?" Dean replies, arm still braced behind his head. He winks, eyes still shiny and black, and Castiel nearly short circuits. 

Cas hates to admit how stupidly aroused he gets from Dean’s shameless flirtation—and those eyes, though evil and unapologetic, drive him absolutely crazy. Perhaps it’s the whole taboo aspect of it all or the fact that Dean’s filter is essentially nonexistent now; regardless, Castiel has trouble containing himself at times. 

"You’re trouble, Winchester," Castiel huffs, giving Dean’s hair a light tug to expose his throat. He covers his neck in pressing, open-mouthed kisses and drags the hand previously tangled in his hair over his jaw and shoulder, halting once he reaches his bicep. Cas pulls back just enough to admire the way his hand fits perfectly against the fading mark there, like he often does, and smiles at the flicker of green that surfaces in Dean’s eyes when he squeezes. 

"Possessive is a good look on you, Cas," Dean teases, acknowledging the primal look in his lover’s eyes as he towers over him. 

"M’not possessive," Castiel insists, voice muffled by Dean’s collarbone as he continues to trail kisses down his chest and torso. "You already know who you belong to," he adds, releasing a breathy laugh when Dean snorts and agrees with a low hum that gradually morphs into a throaty moan once Cas’ mouth finds one of his nipples. 

Cas takes his time, much to Dean’s dissatisfaction, worshiping every inch of his hunter’s body. His fingers spread over his pectorals as he mouths at his oblique and trails his lips across his abdomen, tongue tracing the pronounced depressions that outline the muscles there. 

"C’mon, baby," Dean breaths, eyes falling shut and back arching beneath Castiel’s deliberate licks. "Give it to me," he grunts, turning his cheek into the pillow and gnashing his teeth. 

Castiel doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he drags out his withdrawal with peppered kisses against Dean’s stomach and firm caresses over his ribs. Gradually, he makes his way back up, scaling his body with his lips and the warm tickle of his breath until they’re face to face once again. 

"Top drawer," Castiel mutters against Dean’s lips, a closed lipped smile gracing his handsome face at the sight of Dean’s brightening face. 

While Dean busies himself blindly groping through the nightstand, Castiel continues to add to the collection of hickeys and blemishes on the demon’s throat. The feeling of Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbing beneath his tongue makes Cas moan and bite down, evoking the most gorgeous, guttural growl from somewhere deep in the other man’s chest. 

Dean lays back against the bed fully, arms resting on either side of his head and a syringe in one hand. Castiel slides his hands up his lover’s chest, triceps, and forearms at a dragging pace and interlaces one hand with Dean’s while delicately wrapping his fingers around the syringe with his free hand. 

"So good for me, Dean," Castiel praises in a husky whisper. And he is because this is a choice. This is Dean fighting the mark. This is Dean fighting for his humanity. Cas refuses to dismiss his determination and will seek every opportunity to validate his lover’s willingness through recognition and commendation. 

Cas kisses him again, slow and sweet, and takes Dean’s lower lip between his teeth as they pull apart. Dean’s gazing up at him with a look—something crossed between domineering and desperate—that makes Cas tense. How his eyes can be so void yet so full still mystifies Castiel to this day. 

Sitting up slowly, Castiel adjusts himself so that he is straddling Dean’s hips. He stretches out one of his arms and turns it over, exposing the faint river of veins beneath the pale skin there. Dean watches meticulously as the needle penetrates the layers and licks his lips as the crimson cure gradually rises within the vile. His black eyes dart from the syringe to Cas’ face, noting the way his jaw clenches and the subtle parting of his lips as the syringe reaches capacity. 

Castiel casts Dean a sideways glance and smiles at his patience while pulling out, flicking the needle once it’s withdrawn from his arm. Satisfied, Cas leans forward and slides his fingers through Dean’s slightly dampened hair, urging his head back tenderly. He closes the distance between them and nudges their noses together clumsily. 

"I miss your eyes," Cas says honestly, sighing and pressing two delicate kisses to each of Dean’s eyelids when they close. When they reopen, they are that familiar green on white. It catches Cas off guard. 

"Like this, baby?" Dean asks, lifting his eyebrows once and chuckling lowly at the look on his lover’s face. It’s subtle but he catches onto the slight rounding of Castiel’s eyes and the ping of guilt and sadness within them. Before either of them can invest too much into it, Dean reverts back and the green is gone as quickly as it came. 

"Yeah, like that," Cas sighs, "now come here." Castiel smiles, a mixture of sadness and hope, and shifts again so they he can situate himself against the headboard. Dean takes the hint and moves accordingly, settling with his head on Cas’ bare lap and his legs outstretched towards the foot of the bed. The initial injection is always a little bit of a shock to his system but Dean is adjusting easier and easier each time around.

His body trembles as the thin needle is pushed in, eyes darting from it to Castiel’s face as if silently seeking reassurance. 

"Relax, Dean. You’re alright," Cas replies to Dean’s unvoiced concerns, gently pushing at the plunger and feeding his blood into the demon’s veins.

By the time the last millimeter disappears, Dean’s neck is craned back over Cas’ thigh, jaw tight and eyes screwed shut. Beads of sweat form at his hair line while goosebumps surface along his thick forearms. Save for the jagged inhales and exhales, he’s quiet until his body begins to accept the foreign bodies. 

"Ahg, f-fuck," Dean grunts, swallowing harshly and finally releasing his grip on the sheets. If he concentrates, he can feel it coursing through every inch of him from the first pump through his chamber down to his fingertips. The feeling is almost indescribable. 

In the past, he’s described it as, “getting head in the Impala while listening to the guitar solo from Free Bird and watching a great white shark breach in the middle of the ocean.” Castiel had wanted to question it but after some thought, he supposed it made some sense. 

"Breathe, Dean," Cas reminds, gently stroking his fingers through the other’s dirty blond locks and eyeing him attentively. "You’re doing so good," he encourages, gazing down adoringly through hooded, blue eyes. 

Even from the outside, Cas can sense the mounting pressure and the rush of blood as it zooms through Dean’s poisoned veins. He struggles as the internal battle within him wages on, the stress and hurt manifesting itself as full body tremors and cold sweat, but when that exhausted smile breaks out over Dean’s face—when the blackness recedes and that genuine burst of green surfaces—they both release the breaths they’ve been holding.

Cas lets out a hushed laugh, his nose scrunching up once and his eyes watering with relief. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ Castiel muses inwardly, losing himself in Dean’s righteous stare. 

This is different than the stunt he pulled earlier. This is real. Although, Castiel knows it’s just as short-lived as when he fakes it, that doesn’t make it any less refreshing. He finds comfort in knowing that for that moment, no matter how brief, Dean disarms and being the one responsible for that well deserved relief gives Castiel a high he couldn’t achieve with wings or grace. 

"You still with me, Doctor Sexy?" Dean pipes, lips lifting at the corners in an amused fashion. His eyes are black again. 

Castiel smiles regardless and soothes a hand over his hair again, hunching forward while Dean props himself up on his elbows to mitigate the gap between them. Dean kisses him hard and twists until he is sitting up on his knees, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other descending boldly down the center of his chest. 

"Gonna’ take care of you, now," Dean whispers enticingly, brushing their lips together and eyeing Castiel through dense lashes. His fingertips graze over his member, caressing the hot, velvet skin before closing around it deftly. Dean pumps him slow and firm while burying his face in the crook of Cas’ neck and mouthing at the spot below his ear. 

"Dean," Castiel sighs, body relaxing and cock hardening under his lover’s skilled touch. Still propped up against the headboard, Cas slouches languidly and spreads his legs some, biting his lower lip to stifle a particularly loud groan that escapes him. 

"Don’t hold back, baby. Love the way you moan. Love making you scream," Dean grunts directly into his ear, glancing down as he smears the pearl of precome forming at the tip of Castiel’s wet cock. "Love it when you leak all over my hand too," the demon adds. Chuckling darkly, he his hand clean across Cas’ belly and marvels at the shine it creates against his skin. 

"Want me to suck your cock, Cas? Is that what you want, angel?" Dean continues to taunt, giving his dick a little squeeze and licking the rim of his ear. 

The raunchiness of the act and the bite in Dean’s voice makes Castiel shudder and buck up instinctively into the other man’s closed fist. “Yes,” he manages to pant, throat bobbing with every gulp. 

"Say it, Cas. I want to hear you say it," Dean persists, jerking Cas at a uniform pace. 

"Want you to suck me off, Dean. Ah, n-need it," Castiel concedes and parts his lips to accommodate for the harsh breaths blowing past them. 

"Can’t even say it without blushing, can you, Cas? You embarrassed, baby? Embarrassed over how badly you want your cock sucked?" Dean’s teasing is relentless but Castiel is harder than he’s ever been. He’s only been working him for five minutes and already, Cas is flushed and on the verge of begging. 

Fortunately, Dean takes pity on him after a few more teasing licks against his ear and a exceptionally hard bite against his shoulder. 

"I love your big, fucking cock. You know that already, though. Don’t you, baby? Know that from how loud I scream when I’m riding you, huh, baby? You want that?" Dean lets out, now settled between Castiel’s knees with one hand gripping him at the base and the other splayed out over his stomach. He slides his lips up and down the shaft, tonguing at the large vein that runs along the underside and humming appreciatively at the way it throbs against him. 

Castiel is somewhat reserved, still adjusting to Dean’s complete lack of a filter which seems to be demonstrated most easily during sex. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t enjoy it, as he isn’t exactly the most vanilla person out there either, but Dean has left him speechless on more than one occasion. This being one of them. 

However, he is always mindful of the reasoning behind it. Dean’s eagerness to please is no secret to anyone—that’s the type of man he is—but Castiel’s worry is warranted for other reasons. Cas feeds Dean’s addiction, and though it is for a worthy cause, he refuses to let that be the logic behind his lover’s enthusiasm. Fortunately, it isn’t. Till this day, Dean only speaks of him and his attributes during his vocal and physical worship—never about his blood. 

Castiel combs through Dean’s hair lazily and watches through blown out pupils as he bottoms out over his thick cock. He slides down Dean’s throat easily, hips grounded by the firm hold against his hip bones and the paralyzing stare of his oil slick eyes. 

"Oh! Fu—" Castiel gasps as Dean eases off only to plunge back down, steadying the other man’s shoulders in a feeble attempt to get him to slow down. 

Dean pulls off with a lewd pop, his chin slick with drool and his eyes squinted knowingly. “What was that, angel?” Dean presses, smirking against his lover’s thigh and beaming up at him. “Were you going to say fuck?” He takes his own lower lip between his teeth, still wearing that mischievous smile, and ducks down to toy with his balls. “Come on, Cas. Say it. You’re not foolin’ anyone with that little innocent act,” Dean growls, blowing out a hot breath over his lover’s heavy sac. 

"Need I remind you I’ve seen you when you’re molting. Now that," Dean acknowledges, recalling the intense heat Castiel would go through during the the Spring months. He pauses to give one of his balls a firm suck and pulls off, nuzzling against the underside of his dick shamelessly, "that was downright offensive." He laughs through his nose when Castiel unsuccessfully tries to stifle an embarrassed snort and finds himself stopping to admire the tinge of pink that spreads over his lover’s smiling cheeks. 

"You’re such an ass," Cas groans, dragging a hand across his own face and craning his neck back when Dean resumes his task. Between the audible sucking and pure filth coming from the other’s mouth, Castiel is moaning and cursing in no time.

Dean celebrates the small victory by deep throating him again, earning another hushed fuck and a whimpered plea for more. Humming, Dean peers up and inches his fingers up his torso, mapping over the lean muscle there briefly before coming to a halt at his chest. He rolls one of his nipples between his thumb and index finger, feeling his own cock stir against the sheets at the string of hitched breaths and cut moans that fall from his mouth in response. 

"Ready for me, baby?" Dean asks after he pulls off again, a thin string of saliva connecting his lips to the tip of Cas’ cock. 

"Probably not," Cas pants, arms at his sides and smiling face flushed. 

"You’re being modest," Dean purrs, already scaling Cas’ body and situating himself with his knees planted into the mattress on either side of him. "But I said I was going to take care of you, didn’t I?" He reminds, threading a hand through Castiel’s sweat drenched hair, exposing more of his sharp, handsome features.

Dean smirks and grinds back against the brunette’s aching member, sighing contently at the feeling of his length sliding between the cleft of his ass. Preparation isn’t really in the playbill these days so on his way back down, Dean lowers himself onto Castiel’s cock without much of a warning. He lets out a grating moan as he’s filled and steadies himself with Cas’ shoulders, eyebrows sloping pathetically and jaw going slack. 

"Dean! Shit, I—" Castiel gasps, sliding into his partner effortlessly. His hands snap to Dean’s sides, holding him in place at his waist while the demon seats himself until Cas is fully sheathed inside him. "You’re so tight," he whispers, gradually relaxing his grip while Dean adjusts to the intrusion. 

"Fuck. So big, Cas," Dean commends, looking remotely submissive for the first time that night. As convincing as he is when he’s calling the shots, even Dean Winchester, mark and all, can be put in his place with the right balance of praise and power. Sometimes, though, it’s more entertaining to let him take the reins. 

"Feel good for you too, baby? You like that tight ass squeezing your big cock?" Dean grunts, gnashing his teeth together as he starts to set a pace. He stays level and rocks his hips back and forth, stirring Cas’ length inside him with the occasional swivel. 

Castiel can only nod in response at first, overwhelmed by the choking heat surrounding his sex. “It’s unreal, Dean,” he whispers back, shutting his eyes and letting his head fall back against the headboard carelessly. 

Dean takes the opportunity to kiss and suck at Cas’ neck, pressing his tongue flat against his salty skin. He moans into the bruise he’s created there when Castiel’s hands reach around to grope at his backside and pull apart his cheeks. “Fuck yeah,” Dean encourages roughly, grinding back harder with every snap of his hips. 

Cas’ hands aren’t guiding him as much as they are going along for the ride. Dean is far from incapable which he demonstrates by speeding up and alternating between rapid forward thrusts and bouncing. “Give me that fucking dick, baby. Fuck, want to make you come,” he growls, continuing to lift and lower himself using his powerful thighs alone. 

With one hand tangled in his own hair and the other pumping his neglected cock, Dean proceeds to move, clamping and squeezing around Cas on every up swing. Heavy, labored breaths rush past his lips as he works himself and rides Castiel’s cock like he was born for it.

After fifteen minutes of Dean steadily increasing his speed and power, Castiel is practically putty. The sound of the headboard slamming into the wall is only rivaled by the lewd slap of wet skin as Dean slams himself on and off of Cas’ pulsing member. 

"You gonna’ come, angel? Mm, fucking hell. You look so good like this, Cas," Dean lets out through his own jagged panting, black eyes completely fixated on his lover’s unforgivably attractive form. 

"Y-Yes, Dean! Ye—" Cas cuts himself off with yet another moan and bucks up weakly as he reaches his peak. He spills himself into his lover shamelessly, filling him to the brim and then some while Dean continues to fuck himself onto his cock. 

Dean drinks in the sight eagerly, pumping himself faster and rocking back on his lover’s softening length until the warmth in his belly spreads and erupts. He comes all over Cas’ stomach in hot, white globs and contracts around his member greedily until he’s completely spent and his frantic thrusts slow into little jolts. “Love coming on your cock, Cas…” Dean breathes, looking purely satisfied as he delicately lifts himself off, shuddering as the fullness leaves him and Cas’ seed leaks down the backs of his thighs. 

"Wow," is all Cas can muster at that moment, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling and body boneless. 

"That’s what I like to hear," Dean replies, grinning and kissing the corner of his lover’s mouth before settling into the spot beside him. 

When Castiel regains his composure, he reaches over to pull Dean closer and plants a few sloppy kisses against the side of his head before resting his head against the other’s freckled shoulder. They sit there, bodies sweaty and sated, until their breathing stabilizes and their chests stop heaving, hands loosely interlaced. 

"Was I really that obscene during my molting?" Castiel asks after a few blissful, post-coital minutes, voice muffled by Dean’s skin. 

"If I recall, I asked for a glass of water and you told me, and I quote, that you were ‘going to fuck me speechless and wash my dirty mouth out with your come’." Dean replies bluntly, holding back his laughter when Cas hums in response, not even trying to pretend he wasn’t proud of that one. 

"Heh, that’s a good one," Castiel mutters through smile, gazing down at their hands and giving Dean’s a little squeeze before closing his eyes. "Love you, Dean," he murmurs after a few moments, voice tired and raspy.

"Love you too, assbutt," Dean murmurs, pressing a hard kiss to Castiel’s temple.


End file.
